Blood Angel, Angel of Blood
by Schlitz-Kehle
Summary: He truly was blessed by God to have such an amazing, beautiful creature like Arthur take care of him. But he knew not everything Arthur did when he left was not what a saint would do; let alone an angel. And Alfred loved him.


A small giggle was heard down the hall of a darkened household. That giggle then turned into a chuckle. Then a laugh filled with utter delight. If one was to travel down the hall, they would see painted portrait upon painted portrait; the evolution of photography throughout the ages. The beginning of the collection began with a small, messy blond-haired child in a cloak standing next to a man with long blond hair pulled up into a ponytail. As the collection progressed, the child grew and the man disappeared. The child grew and grew until he couldn't anymore; stuck being a man in his early twenties. Immorality did that to you. Towards the final pieces, this messy blond-haired boy took the man's place and a younger, more innocent looking blue-eyed boy took his place as a child.

"Arthur! S-Stop it, it tickles! M-My lungs hurt!" The voice of the giggling young boy squealed. Above the boy, wearing a silly grin and tickling the boy's stomach with 'menacing' fingers, was the Englishman addressed as Arthur. He was dressed in the darkest of shades; from a bleeding red rose that shined in the eyes of the dying to a midnight raven's wing that drove even the most dormant of creatures into the pits of blistering insanity.

Arthur kept tickling the boy senseless, taking in the emotions of joy and happiness from the innocent laughter.

"I won't stop, Alfred, unless you give me another drink, my boy."

The boy addressed as Alfred widened his bright, sky-blue eyes in a mixture of fear and surprise.

"B-But..."

Arthur's fingers froze over Alfred's stomach and he stared into his eyes curiously.

"But...?"

"I-It'll hurt... And you promised one drink a day! I-I might get sick! Or weak! I-I-I could die!" Alfred wailed, paling.

Arthur smiled lightly.

"Hm..." He gently caressed the frightened boy's cheek, causing him to gasp at the feel of such cold fingers. "Please, Alfred... I'll get you those soldiers you saw in the window tomorrow, I promise. Just please let me do this, for I have been feeling weak lately."

Alfred took a deep, shaking breath before nodding slowly and closing his eyes.

"O-Okay..." He whimpered. "T-Try not to make it hurt."

Arthur leaned forward slowly, his lips now ghosting dangerously close to the left side of Alfred's neck.

"I'll try to be gentle." He whispered before his fangs slid into sight from his incisors and he sank them into the young neck.

Alfred's eyes shot open and he released a small shriek before his body began to tremble and tears filled his eyes. Arthur had been leaving and coming back to Alfred frequently for the past few months. Each time he returned, he looked weak and saddened and Alfred couldn't take it. Though, he kept forgetting how painful a vampire's bite could be. Alfred had read in the books of Arthur's vast library about vampires and they spoke of a vampire's bite being filled with bliss and pleasure; that the venom of such a thing could drive one's senses crazy and hormones would rage. "_Heh_," Alfred had thought, "_What a myth_."

"A-Arthur! I-I changed my mind! Please stop!"

But the Englishman was deaf to his pleas; his senses overwhelmed by blood. Alfred's blood.

Alfred knew he wouldn't be heard and screwed his eyes shut, crying in silence. He owed this to his caretaker. After all, he had been taken in out of the generosity of the Briton's unbeating heart.

He had been close to death by the time he had been found in a forest; laying in a large puddle of mud and his own blood with a wolf towering over him and growling close to his face. Alfred had closed his eyes and released a scream when the wolf roared and clamped it's sharp teeth on his shoulder. By then, he was sure he was going to die with wolves surrounding him, until everything suddenly went silent. Looking up with one eye open and the other shut, he saw the man standing high on a narrow tree branch, his form illuminated by shadow and the large, crystal moon shining behind him. To Alfred, he looked like an angel sent from heaven to save him from the cruel hands of death. The man then jumped down with the grace of a dancer, without a sound, and charged forward with a blurred speed, growling like an animal and scaring away the wolves. The wolves wailed like pups and ran away with their tails between their legs and their ears flat against their heads. After they were out of sight, the man approached Alfred, and Alfred held his breath. As he got closer, the shine of the moon lit up his form, and he saw his face. Messy blond hair, large eyebrows, and eyes of the purest emerald. Alfred thought he was a saint. The man hunkered down next to him and he flinched away.

"Are..." Alfred's voice was hoarse and raw from how much he had screamed and sobbed. "...Are you here to kill me?"

The man's eyes filled with concern and confusion.

"To... To take me to heaven?" Alfred continued, coughing.

The man's expression softened.

"My word boy... You hit your head hard, haven't you?"

Alfred felt a giggle rise up in his throat, but it hurt his throat too much so it dissolved. He couldn't speak anymore, so he just closed his eyes and lay there, losing consciousness. The man blinked in surprise and a smile spread across his lips. He removed his cloak and laid it over Alfred, lifting him up into his arms.

Alfred's eyes slowly opened back up when he realized Arthur stopped drinking from him. The vampire was staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

"My lord, I've got to stop drinking from you... You'll fall asleep." He teased, smiling warmly.

Alfred blinked before giggling and allowing Arthur to wipe the tears away.

He truly was blessed by God to have such an amazing, beautiful creature like Arthur take care of him. But he knew not everything Arthur did when he left was not what a saint would do; let alone an angel. And Alfred loved him.


End file.
